Hereafter
by KatRum
Summary: The gods turned their gazes to the world below them and felt a pity born of disappointment at what they saw – they expected so much more of man – and decided to toy with fate. Who better to interfere with than Ichigo and Rukia? AU Post-Apocalyptic IchiRuki, one-sided RenRuki, implied Zangetsu/Shirayuki (on HIATUS. need help D:)
1. Chapter 1 - Before

**Summary**:

_The gods turned their gazes to the world below them and felt a pity born of disappointment at what they saw – they expected so much more of man – and decided to toy with man's fate. Who better to interfere with than Ichigo and Rukia? AU Post-Apocalyptic IchiRuki_

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

Hey everyone, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. If you have any criticism, reviews, advice, flame, anything just throw it at me :)

Right, I'm only gonna say this once so listen up: I don't own Bleach or its characters. If I did, then this wouldn't be _fan_fiction now would it?

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

In a time long before our own, before even the noble captains that had come to protect two worlds had been established, there was only a vast wasteland filled with wondering souls. The land was barren and devoid of any variation, stretching out as far as the eye could see and beyond. However, those lost souls, so lacking of hope and purpose, had not dared to explore the extent of the world around them, content to wonder aimlessly amongst the other souls that accompanied them.

The gods turned their gazes to them and felt a pity born of disappointment at what they saw – they expected so much more of man – and decided to cast their hands down and bless a select few with their power.

"I grow tired of their wondering," one ponders, silver hair flickering faintly against snow-white skin in the subtle moonlight that her companion casts upon the world.

"Ay. As have I, too, become restless at man's inability to progress," the other replies, dark hair floating around his head in a halo of unruly waves, strong jaw relaxed and his cloak, black as night, billowing in an unseen breeze. "They lack resolve; purpose."

Violet eyes that shimmer like the goddess' hair muse over the statement as they study the mortals below. _Yes_, she reflects, _they do lack a reason to exist_.

"They could be more," she says carefully. "Lost potential. It's a pity, really."

"Perhaps we should intervene?"

A thoughtful gaze, unearthly eyes glistening with steady deliberation.

"A game, then, my dear Zangetsu." A raised brow and muted amusement tugs at his lips as his eyes widen in slight surprise, though it is scarcely noticeable; it is difficult to surprise one as collected as he. His silence she takes as her cue to proceed.

"Let us place their fate into our own hands, and provide them a means to evolve and to strengthen themselves."

"But how?"

She contemplates this with a slight tilt of her head, the movement as graceful as her delicate beauty. Her answer, "If a foe emerges and threatens their existence, the mortals may band together and develop something more… entertaining than their current stance."

His gaze shifts back to the mortal world that lay below their realm, consideration evident in the pull of his brow and lips downturned in a slight frown.

"Very well," he declares, mellow tone resonating her soul. "A game it 'tis then, Shirayuki, if you so desire."

A smile – hers this time – delicately angled features bending ever so slightly to accommodate the picturesque illustration. "As you wish, my lord."

* * *

><p>Intrigued? Bored? Let me know with a review please and thanks :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2 - The Challenger

**Author's Note:**

_**I know my chapters are short, but please bear with me. They will get longer. Reviews are appreciated and any feedback would be amazing :)**_

_**Anyway, on with the story. **_

* * *

><p>Shirayuki, her appearance regal and elegant as always, knows that her ability to cause destruction is unrivalled by that of any other. Her deathly precision, and the detached coldness she calculates her opponent with, make her a fearsome adversary indeed. This is why she delegates another god with the task of creating an entity to challenge the mortals. She wants the humans to struggle and eventually overcome their obstacle, not be completely annihilated. And so Shirayuki takes her time to choose a worthy creator, patiently considering each god she has come to know and assesses them.<p>

After careful deliberation, she choses Shiro – a god with snow-white hair and even paler skin, the god of challenge and riddles. He is honoured by the snow queen's selection, and so he carries out his task thoroughly, ensuring his creations are perfect. He models his creation based off of what he sees in the mortal realm; lost and empty. He ponders what man would be like if they did not possess the thing that they call a heart, the core of their being. He supposes that then they would mirror the landscape around them. So, the creatures he makes won't have their centre; they will be hollow and empty. Shiro decides that if they are empty, then they will try to find something to fill themselves and to replenish the heart they have lost. This is what makes them a foe, Shiro thinks, as he believes that they will hunt those who possess what they don't. They will hunt souls. And perhaps, if they fill that emptiness a bit more they'd satisfy their hunger. But there is no replacing what has been lost.

And so the Hollow were born.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

_**Review :)**_


	3. Chapter 3 - The Guardians

**_A/N_**

**_Here's chapter three! It's a little longer this time, and I hope you enjoy. If you have any questions or anything, just let me know via PM or a review _****_J_**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 3 – The Guardians<strong>_

Eventually, after the Hollow appear, the mortals do exactly as what Shirayuki expected they would do; they join together. At first they are disorganized, confused and chaos rules for a time, until a few step forward as leaders to guide the souls to victory against the newfound threats. The mortals are no longer just existing for the sake of existing; they are fighting for a purpose, and as one guided towards a common goal. Soon, they develop a society and the gods do not need to intervene and grant the mortals power. Man has strengthened themselves without the gods' help. They have evolved into higher beings. But if man is able to evolve, then the Hollow are able to as well, and soon they too gain more power to once again throw the mortals into turmoil. It is then that the gods intervene and gift man with a portion of their power.

* * *

><p>Zangetsu's task is to find an appropriate vessel for the god's power. A mortal. And so he gazes down to the mortal realm once again and searches for a suitable subject. <em>There.<em> A newborn babe in the arms of a mother. He can sense the potential leadership and greatness in the infant, and Zangetsu chooses the young boy as a host for his power. His power would grow with the child, and it would mold itself to the boy's soul, his abilities reflecting his true inner being. Zangetsu casts his hand down onto the babe and plants the miniscule seed that would grow into greatness. And for the time being, he looks away.

When the god once again turns his gaze to the boy he is no longer a boy but a charming young man with a head of brown curls, a mimicry of Zangetsu's own dark waves. But as he spectates, a sense of dread forms itself in his gut. He can see the arrogance, the insolence in the man's eyes; an expression that shows he thinks he is much better than the scum surrounding him. As soon as Zangetsu sees this, he knows he has chosen unwisely. The elusive nature of the mortal's power only strengthens Zangetsu's doubt. He knows that the man possesses only the illusion of a guardian, and his own human naivety will be his downfall.

* * *

><p>They thought that Sousuke Aizen would save the world. Turns out they were wrong. This man is no savior, is no <em>guardian<em> for the rest of humanity. In fact, instead of saving it with the powers the gods gave him, he decides he wants to _become_ a god, believes it to be possible, believes that he is so close already. Oh how naïve a mortal can be. And so, believing that the rest of man is trash destined to burn, he leaves them to fend for themselves.

And all the god's can do is watch as the world crumbles below them.

* * *

><p>The god's second choice is much more vigilant. They want their vessel to know what weakness is, as their mistake with the first was to grant power to him so freely. This time, however, they will make the mortal work for it. They have learned that for man to grow to their full potential, they must first know what it is like to suffer.<p>

So they watch as the boy grows, and pity him when difficult hardships fall upon him at such a young age. They watch as he tries and fails to protect the one he calls mother – she is the one who named him guardian – but it must be done, and they move on.

He is weak, Zangetsu notes, but the mortal refuses to accept this. He can sense the guardian's determination and steely resolve, though it tends to waver at times when he is most vulnerable. But, this is expected of man. So Zangetsu bides his time in strengthening this mortal, – time is of little relevance anymore anyway; he has lived too long – and watches as the boy grows into a young man. He has learnt of weakness, and Zangetsu knows that this boy has a strong desire to protect those dearest to him, and – if it is required of him – those that need protecting. The gods test him, throwing obstacles in the young man's way: a random stranger in peril, human enemies that outnumber him, indiscernible choices he must make, and the list goes on. The young guardian accepts the challenges the gods throw at him, and accepts that he must become stronger to overcome their increasing difficulty.

And so, Zangetsu waits.

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>AN_**

**_Thanks for reading and all the reviews, favs, follows and alerts _****_J_********_I didn't actually expect to get much feedback or people to like this story :D. As always, please review._**

**_~Kat_**


	4. Chapter 4 - Violet Girl

**Chapter 4 - Violet Girl**

* * *

><p>The world has already ended, and society as it was once known, is now scattered, divided and hopeless. It's every man for themselves. They have taken to calling it Rukongai; no one remembers its original name. Some say that there were once many names for each part of the world, and that people once lived their lives in unity and companionship. The notion of community is so foreign now.<p>

Ruins of once great structures – she's heard the myths of the great captains that had once guarded this place, and their legendary Sereitei city – reduced to rubble now, are the homes and scavenging places for many.

Street rats, sickness, no mercy or compassion in sight; this is how Rukia Kuchiki has always known the world to be. Even as a defenseless child of seven years her own sister had abandoned her, leaving her on the gutter to fend for herself. She'd managed though, however young she was, through her strong will and stubbornness. Sometimes, she can imagine the world as it was in the myths her sister used to tell her; kind, safe and full of people who go out of their way to help. If only it were true and not one of her false imaginings of a life other than the one she holds. Here, in this desolate place, there are wary glances, and suspicion marring the faces of all. It's cold, lonely, and hopeless.

Head down, Rukia toes yet another blackened shard of stone to see what lay underneath, only to be met with what she usually found; a layer of scorched rubble similar to the first, not a trace of anything useable in the charcoaled heap. She can't help but feel the panic knotting in her gut heighten each time at her lack of discovery. The nights are getting colder after all, and with nothing to burn, both her and Renji can't keep warm, or cook any of their scavenged food for that matter.

She thinks of Renji, and worries that he is back at their camp without her, worries that someone has raided their camp and that he'll die like the others had… _No,_ she scolds herself. _He'll be fine. Just like he always is._ Out of the five of the group they had started with, her and Renji are the only two left, and she is determined not to reduce that number any more. And so she pushes on, forever hopeful that there is a silver lining in the storm cloud that overhangs the world.

She does not find much today: a few scraps of rope, a can of something (hopefully) edible, and some shards of broken glass that had etched thin lines of red on her skin. She also finds a dejected looking toy with long ears, the once white fur now a dusty brown from its exposure to the elements. It is cute, she thinks, for something so old, and she decides to show Renji her find.

She begins her journey back to camp, meticulously careful that she's not followed. The sun hangs low in the sky – a glowing red mass that seems to swallow up the horizon and the mountains it ducks behind – and she is determined to return by nightfall.

* * *

><p>Renji is not sure when she leaves or when she comes back. He is only aware of the time she is gone; like an empty space has dug itself inside of him in her absence. He is always relieved when her raven hair reappears through the cloth curtain that is their door, messy and unkempt, that one stray strand dangling rebelliously between two shining violet eyes.<p>

They had always worked like this, as a pair; one the scout, the other the brute force. In a way they fit together: two misshaped pieces slotting in place. They met when they were kids. He can still remember the day that she saved his ass. Him, running in a desperate sprint, losing precious energy fast, and her, slight and light-footed, tackling the shabby but swift store owner's legs from under him.

As he dared to cast a glance over his boney shoulder, he tripped over an unseen obstacle and toppled to the ground in a cloud of dust. For a moment, he lay there stunned, blinking up at the girl standing above him, furious glare contorting her petite features. Violet? Strange, he thought, for a human, but he quickly cast it aside. He wasn't one to talk with his flaming red hair.

"What are you doing, you idiot? Run!" she gruffly yelled at him, deep yet feminine voice resonating in his ears. It takes him a moment to register her words.

"What are you, deaf?" she questioned irritably, grabbing his dirty sleeve and heaving him to his feet. She was strong for her small size. "Get up!"

"Alright already, I'm up, I'm up." Without further adjure they were stumbling together – the raven-haired girl dragging him forcibly most of the way, might he add – and out of sight from the storekeeper. They rested their backs against the cool stone of the building, gasping in the soot-filled air like their lives depended on it. Renji leaned his head back and allowed his eyes to lid themselves, allowing himself this one moment to relax. He stiffened when the girl began to shake, violent sobs ripping themselves from her throat, wet pools of tears welling in her eyes. He panicked. He didn't know how to deal with girls, especially crazy ones that were about to burst into tears. Then she turned her gaze – violet, so unearthly violet – to him and he saw it was not sadness that caused her tears, it was happiness. _Strange girl,_ he thought. _What's there to be happy about?_ And the noise she was making was not sobs, but laughter, a sound he had not heard for a very, very long time. It was light, and joyous, and _happy, _something so foreign and rare in this wasteland of Rukongai, and the sound both relieved him and lifted a weight that had been sitting in his heart for so long. With a gentle sigh, it filled his soul with hope and he began to wonder how this one dark-haired girl could do so much – he'd only just met her after all – with such a simple gesture. He smiled at the girl – he hadn't smiled in years – and allowed a touch of warmth to seep into his features. For the first time in his life he felt hopeful, and that maybe, just maybe, things weren't so bad after all.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**_

**_Thoughts? Like, dislike, comments, queries, advice, flame, anything? Review! Shoutouts to BingQing, Hylla, Queenofmisfits, and Guest(s) for reviewing so far. Thanks for all the favs, follows, alerts, and reviews peeps! Keep 'em comin' :)_**


	5. Chapter 5 - Besieged

_**A/N**_

_**slightly longer this time. Brownie points for who guesses what's gonna happen. Please review (I've gotten, like, 6 reviews so far? come on people!). Thanks to everyone who's bothered to read and review. This chapter, onto Ichigo! :D**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – Besieged <strong>

He is running through the streets, nimble feet jumping over stray rubble with a practiced ease, his arms full and clinging to the items he had gathered like a lifeline. In a way, the objects he is holding are.

Equally agile footsteps, several pairs of them, threaten to catch up to him and reclaim the goods he had taken - it isn't the first time he's stolen from them - angry shouts close, so frighteningly_ close_. He dares to take a glance behind him, and immediately regrets it as a hand seizes his shirt collar and yanks him back, the stolen merchandise flying from his arms and to the street with a loud clatter. Shortly after, he feels the sharp blow to his jaw, and he is left scrambling on the pavement, struggling to orientate which way is up. The other pairs of footsteps join the first, and soon he can feel the painful blows cover his body - his ribs, stomach, back, shoulders, legs - and he huddles in on himself in the feeble attempt at protection and wishes the pain would stop, just _stop_ – hasn't he suffered enough in one lifetime? – and wills oblivion to take him under its blissful hold. But no, it will not come, and in what seems to be minutes, hours, eons - time never mattered any more - the blows cease, and the footsteps recede in the direction they had come. He lay there, allowing the moments to pass in case they come back, and to assess the damage he has taken. He has discovered that to wait and know what hurt was better than blindly forcing his way to his feet. It hurts less that way, if that was possible. After he is fairly confident that he can stand without toppling over, he gingerly drags himself to his feet, wincing at the forming bruises and breath hitching at the probable broken ribs and sprained wrist.

He searches the ground for any sign of what he has taken, only to be disappointed. As is expected, the products that he had dropped had been reclaimed by the men he had stolen it from. He has, however, managed to hold onto a measly can of what he hopes is food as he had huddled around it protectively. He sighs shortly, defeated. All that effort for one can? Well, one can is better than no can, and hell if his sisters go hungry another night.

Scanning his surroundings for any threats, he conceals his prize under his thin shirt, blinking the blackness out of his eyes, and begins the long trek home.

* * *

><p>"I'm home," he declares as loud as he dares, closing the rickety door behind him with an audible yet soft click.<p>

Before he can react, a beefy man with a scruffy black stubble flies out from nowhere, kicking him right in his broken ribs. "You're late!" The man pouts, clearly unimpressed with his tardiness and ready to torment his young son, a jovial glint in his eyes. The glint is replaced with worry when his son is left doubled over against the wall, gasping for breath and clutching at his side. It is only then that the older man sees the bruises peeking from under the teens' clothes, a particularly nasty purple marring his jugular.

"How bad?" He asks, jovial tone now serious. When his son doesn't reply, eyes squinted closed in pain as he tries to _breathe_, the older man leads him to a chair in their makeshift kitchen, easing him down into it as his legs fail him.

The teen produces a small, unlabeled can, sitting it on the table with a weak thud. Isshin lowers his gaze to the floor, guilt evident on his brow. He'd gotten caught, and this was his punishment. If Isshin had just - no, they would have killed them both, but they let him off with a warning instead. At least he was alive.

"I - I'm sorry I couldn't get more, they - they -"

"It's fine, Ichigo. What did I tell you about taking unnecessary risks? I thought I specifically told you not to get caught."

Tentatively, the older man lifts up his son's shirt to inspect the damage. "I screwed up. I'm sor - aagh!" The barely restrained yelp when Isshin prods one of the already bruising ribs isn't unnoticed, and he allows the shirt to fall back down. Pursing his lips, he retreats to fetch his limited first aid supplies.

With a sigh, Ichigo allows his head to rest in his uninjured hand. Gods, he's such a failure. He can't even get a descent meal for his family. At this rate they'd -

"Ichigo?" A soft voice calls from the doorway, short brown hair falling limply in her wide, frightened eyes. His gaze softens at the sight of his sister.

"What's up Yuuzu?" Her eyes brighten instantly, and she rushes over, issuing him with a tight hug. He can't help but let out a pained yelp and she pulls back, worry lines creasing her brow. He closes his eyes for a moment until he can breathe evenly again - damn it, broken ribs _hurt_ - mutters a not-so-convincing "I'm fine" and is again blinking black spots out of his eyes. Only this time, they're not going away and he's swaying in his seat, pitching to the side to be caught by a struggling Yuzu.

"Daddy!" She cries as Ichigo goes completely limp and she can't hold him up anymore with her too-thin shaking arms. Isshin rushes in, medical box in hand, just as Ichigo crashes to the floor with a loud thump, an unconscious groan, and the crack of bone is heard.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**_

_**Review? Please? Anyone? 500 views, yet only 6 reviews… Kanashii, ne? For now, jya mata ne.**_


	6. Chapter 6 - Taken

_**A/N**_

_**chappy 6 up and loaded. Forgive my spelling; it's hot off the press.**_

_**as always, read and review :D**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6 - Taken<strong>

* * *

><p>On the fourth day he still hasn't woken, and his sisters are growing worried, even though Karin tries to feign nonchalance in her silent attempt to support her twin. "He'll come to when he feels like it," she says. "Lazy dumb ass just wants to slack off, is all." Yuzu is grateful for her words but they don't ease the knot that has wound its way in her gut. Ichigo had been hurt before, but not this badly and he's never been out of it for more than a day, let alone four. Isshin tells them he's going to be fine, but even they can see his worried glances and constant inspections of the bruises coating his body.<p>

* * *

><p>He's drifting, the blackness of oblivion encompassing his being in every direction with no end. The inky darkness, however ominous, is both strangely soothing and comforting, and he finds that he's content here. There's something nagging at the back of his mind though, and it won't leave him be. He thinks he has something important to do, but he's sure it can wait.<p>

_No!_

The sudden exclamation startles him, and the blackness recedes slightly. He doesn't want it to leave yet, so he coaxes it back and it engulfs him again, once more drifting in blissful ignorance.

* * *

><p>The second time he becomes aware of himself, he has grown restless. He wants to move, blink, do <em>anything<em>. But he can't. Can't even open his eyes, they're so heavy. He thinks the ink has something to do with it, and he tries to shoo it away. Stubbornly, it stays, sticking to him like syrup and impeding his movements. Unwillingly, he slips back into nothingness.

* * *

><p>This time, he dreams.<p>

...Of a black-clad man with dark hair that flows in an unseen breeze, calling to him. He sees his lips move, but cannot hear his voice. His dark cloak flutters around him mysteriously, flickering in and out of the moonlit shadows.

The scene changes to a raven-haired girl with violet eyes, running through the streets in the dead of night, the pale moon illuminating her flawless but dirt-streaked skin with an unearthly glow. She slips into a small crevice in the wall, and two figures rush by her hiding place. She breathes a silent sigh of relief as she looks left, then right and turns back the way she had come, small feet barely touching the ground, as if she's flying over it. She's beautiful, he thinks distractedly, like the first soft snow that falls in winter. Yet she also seems lonely, a lone wolf wondering the night in search of a pack.

The vision spirals into nothingness, and he's once again pulled under into the dark.

* * *

><p>The forth time, he hears voices, and the black isn't as thick.<p>

"- come round, right?" Scared. He wonders why the voice is scared. Is it his doing? Is the voice frightened because of something he did? He tries desperately to open his eyes. Or twitch a finger. Anything. Surprisingly, he reaches an arm up to touch the silky layer of ink above him, eyes still refusing to open. Beyond the layer he can sense something... an unpleasant feeling. Behind the film is the stab of pain and even from here he can feel his breath shorten. But that's where the frightened voice is... And his instincts tell him to protect the owner of the voice. Dark tendrils threaten to pull him back under, clawing at his limbs with as he fights against them, struggling to reach through the dense layer above him. He's being pulled down, despite his efforts.

"I don't know, Yuzu. It's been -"

"No!"

Angry shouts.

"Ichigo! -ome on! -ake u- -wa- up!"

"Karin, I don't think-"

"Wake up!"

Desperate._ They're calling me_, he realises. He has to help!

With new found strength, he struggles up, pulling himself through the thick ink, dragging himself to the surface. He's almost there -

He breaks through the surface, the first thing he registers is the _pain_. It hurts everywhere and he can't draw a good breath without it sending jolts of pain spasming throughout his entire body. It feels like he's suffocating.

Then he remembers the voices he has to protect and he pushes aside the searing pain and the throbbing in his temples and pries his eyes open to slits. The three blurred figures he sees don't notice his laboured breathing or his barely open eyes, and he struggles to gain their attention. His voice isn't working for him to say anything, and he tries to raise his arm, only for his fingers to twitch in the figures' general direction.

He tries to speak again, and this time a soft croak comes out, the blurred shapes becoming silent and turning their attention towards him.

"Ichigo? Are you awake?" He twitches his fingers again and hopes that they understand. He tries to pry his eyes open further, but they are stubborn and heavy and refusing to work.

"Ichigo!"

Protect them.

He opens his eyes, and the figures crowded above him come into view; a pair of black hair and short brown. He's relieved; they're okay. He attempts a small smile, that ends up as a grimace.

"H - hey," he manages to whisper.

Karin tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear absently and adjusts her faded red baseball cap. "We're glad you're alright Ichi-nii," she mumbles, striking his shoulder softly with her delicate - but at the same time strong - fist.

He says nothing.

There's a knock at the door, the rapping of knuckles against timber ringing through their home. They never get visitors. Ever. And the foreignness of it startles them for a few precious seconds before the door is kicked in by a heavy booted foot, dust flying in the air and cascading to the floor in a shower of tiny specs. Before anyone can react, Isshin is hit on the back of the head with a dull thwack, falling limp to the floor. Another set of feet enter the small room to join the first, followed by another, and another, and soon the room is full and they're surrounded. Ichigo moves into action, struggling to stand to fend off the intruders. He has to protect his family. He forces his body to _move_, dammit, and he shakily gets to his feet, taking post in front of his sisters and fallen father. He ignores the insistent throb in his temple, and the aches coating his body, and instead focuses solely on getting these people out of his god damned _home_.

He studies the one who first entered, amber eyes narrowed in hostility. The man stands a good few inches above Ichigo - he suspects it is due to the boots - teal hair in need of a trim spiking wildly, and keen eyes glinting dangerously. He is well-clothed, no holes or wear apparent in the denim jeans, white T-shirt clean and leather jacket in pristine condition.

"What do you want?" Ichigo asks cautiously, scanning the area for anything to use against the intruders. Not that a weapon will do him any good in his condition, and he is clearly outnumbered, but hell if he is gonna just lay down and let these thugs abuse his family and his home.

"What do I want? What do _I_ want? To take back what ya took, ya maggot," the teal-haired man growls, simmering rage underlining his tone as well as slight amusement.

Ichigo's eyes narrow further. "I didn't take anything."

The man raises an eyebrow, looking to one of his gang for confirmation. "This the guy who raided us?" He asks, patience wearing thin.

Several of the men nod affirmations and Ichigo curses his luck. They must have followed him here. Shit. He had been careless.

The man smirks, sharp teeth gleaming in the fading light. "Well there ya go. Now hand it over."

Now he's confused.

"What?"

"Hand over the stone!"

"Wait a second, I only managed to get a can, the rest your men took back the rest. And I didn't take a rock."

The man sneers at him. "Sure, and the sky is blue." Ichigo stares at him quizzically. The sky was grey. The idea of a blue sky is idiotic, even for a dimwit like this guy. Jeez, a blue sky, what a dumbass. Wait. _Oooooh_, sarcasm.

"Look, I don't have your stupid rock okay dumbass? Now if thats all you were here for, get out of my house."

The man turns to his troops. "Search the place," he orders. "It's bound to be here somewhere."

Ichigo holds in his fury, clenching his fists until his knuckles whiten. Shortly, the men return empty handed. Their leader is pissed now, and he stalks up to Ichigo, bunching his fists in his shirt. He can smell the man's breath - sour and tainted with the tinge of... alcohol? - as he leans in close, intimidating. "Where is it?" he spits at him. Ichigo's not afraid of this man, though he supposes he should be - the man leaks Danger and Power - but he can't help but fear for his sisters. If he so much as touches them...

If by some stroke of bad luck, the man notices his sisters huddled behind him for the first time, and he makes to grab for them, only for Ichigo to impede any further progress he may have made towards the two girls.

"Don't even think about it," he growls lowly, amber eyes hardening against blue. The man grunts, recognising the challenge and retreats for the moment. Just as Ichigo thinks his sisters are safe, he feels a fist to his stomach and hears the order "Take 'em" ringing with a deadly finality in his ears. A sense of dread, a primal fear, clenches in his gut and everything tunes out for a second, before he snaps himself out of it, rage drowning out he pain and breathlessness. He won't let this man take his sisters, won't let their filthy hands even _touch_ them.

He snarls at the oncoming hoard of men, the sound ripping itself from his throat as he backs up in front of his sisters, arms outstretched to protect them from their clutches.

He's surprised when they hesitate and back up momentarily, but they soon realise they outnumber him and continue their path towards him and his family, knives twirling and fists raised.

"Don't you dare touch them," he threatens, every bit of malice thrown into his words. He will not let them pass him. He would protect his family.

They're_ fast_ he realises as they rush at him all at once. He stops them for all of five seconds, before they overwhelm him and he's on the ground. He drags himself to his feet again, hitting anything he can swing at, pushing back any hands that grab for the two figures behind him.

"Ichi-nii!" The voice distracts him from the battle for a few precious seconds, and again he's struggling to rise to his feet. One slips past his guard, and he's grabbing for the bastard and pulling him back. He's fighting a losing battle but it doesn't stop him from trying, and he shows no sign of giving up anytime soon.

Sharp pain lacerates through his shoulder, and red stains his shirt. He's been stabbed, he realises. As he stumbles back, the bastard reaches his sisters, grabbing Karin's wrist roughly and yanking her forwards. A frightened whimper escapes her lips, and his eyes meet her terrified ones. Before he knows it, he's running forward, pulling the bastard's filthy hand off of her, and this time pain explodes in his side as he again fails to dodge the sharp point of a blade. He staggers, struggling to keep his feet below him. He pushes past it and runs at the man again with renewed vigour.

"Get away from them!" he yells, desperate and afraid that he has failed them _again_.

"Ya don't know when to give up, do ya kid?_ Stay down_," the attacker says as he grasps his hair, brings his head up and smashes it against the ground with a deathly finality. White flashes through Ichigo's vision, and he's left lying helpless in a growing pool of blood - his own?

He watches absently, consciousness fading, as they take his precious sisters, struggling to free themselves from the men's filthy grasps. He hears them call his name desperately, their voices muffled yet the echoes of their pleas haunting his ears.

His voice fails him, as do his limbs, and he realises hopelessly that he can't do anything. He isn't strong enough. The one thing he wants to protect, that he promised to protect with all his soul, has been ripped from his very arms because he is weak.

I_ want to be strong_, he thinks as darkness begins to close in around him. _I - I must protect..._

And the darkness, once again, engulfs his being.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN_**

**_Review :)_**


	7. Chapter 7 - Rumours

**_Sup guys, here's chapter 7. Soz for any spelling mistakes; it's hot off the press. 11 reviews, Woot! As always, read and review :). Edit: wow, have no idea what happened with all the weird whiz on this chap, but hopefully its fixed._**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter 7 - Rumours<em>**

* * *

><p>Carefully, deliberately, Rukia toes her way through the broken door of the abandoned house. She had caught onto a hushed conversation about this place being deserted by its occupants recently. Well, it is either they deserted or one of them landed themselves on the bad side of a gang. Rukia supposes the latter is the more likely of the two.<p>

She scans the perimeter of the lot before she even comes near the place, checking for potential traps or ambushes laid by other scavengers, only to find none. Still, she won't risk staying longer than necessary.

Cautiously, she steps foot into the desolate, dusty-floored room, tiptoeing lightly around broken furniture and an upturned chair. She notes the footprints in the dust - several pairs and signs of struggle. She purses her lips in a light line, disapproval evident on her angular features. Others have been here, and they'd taken the occupants of this house with them. She stiffens, senses on high alert and wound so tight she jumps at even the slightest sound. After all, who's to say the attackers have left?

She wonders further into the house - not a house really, but it has a homey feeling about it - and she can smell the tang of blood on the air, the steely hang of death clinging to her skin and making the hairs on the nape of her neck rise.

Her mind goes back to the day when she had returned to her own home, only to find her friends corpses littering the floor, and all she can see is red - with a jolt, she brings herself back to the present, regaining her composure and slowing her thumping heart. Her gut tells her to get the hell out of this place. But she knows a good scavenge when she sees one, and this place... Well, it's a gold mine.

Without thinking, she follows her nose to the source of the smell... And ends up nearly toppling head first to the ground. She regains her balance ever so gracefully and turns to see what she has tripped on, shaking off the cold wet substance that has soaked her feet. She's surprised when the object moves slightly and groans - barely audibly, but she can still hear it - the mass moving up and down, shallow and laboured.

She realises, with a start, that it's a person that caused her to stumble. In the dim pre-dawn light it is hard to make out their features but she has learned that she doesn't need to rely on her sight alone. The figure is male, roughly twenty, and badly injured. Years of hiding, hunting, stealing and escaping have taught her the small signs and details of her surroundings that others usually missed. She knows these from both experience, and knowledge that has been passed down to her from her brother and friends.

She lets out a sad but relieved breath; the man is no threat to her. As she is about to move on, the moon decides to peek through the clouds that scatter the sky, casting thin rays of its silvery beams through the dusty window and across a young face, topped by a mop of unruly orange hair. His face is pinched in a painful scowl, one arm reaching out to the door and the other tucked under him as though he had fallen on it. A puddle of crimson surrounds his body, his clothes already turning a rustic colour and matting his hair to his face. Horrified, she realises the wetness on her feet is the man's blood and she hurries to wipe her feet free of the crimson. She guesses that the man - he's just a boy, she notes sadly - has been here for a few hours, if that, his skin pale even in the moonlight, and she doubts that he'll be alive for much longer. Hell, she's surprised he's even made it this far. She can tell he's fighting though, and that his will to live is all that is tethering him to this world. A twinge of pity knots her stomach; it's such a waste to see such a young boy die.

She ponders if he's worth saving, if he's worth expending her precious energy on. Before she can even think twice about it her hands are humming with energy, a steady green glow emanating from them as she kneels beside the man and places her hands to his wounds. She watches as her power slowly stitches together torn skin and muscle, her thin fingers shaking with exertion and sweat dripping down her brow.

I won't let him die, she thinks stubbornly. Not like they did. This time, I can save him. This time, I won't be too late.

* * *

><p><strong><em>leave a review on your way out please :)<em>**


	8. Chapter 8 - Turmoil

_**A/N**_

_**Just realised I forgot to edit this. woops. Shout outs to: Guest, , kobebean24, IchiRuki-Ventus-11, zitag and appleschan for reviewing. And, of course, everyone who has read, followed or faved this story so far. As always, review! they really help! (And I highly recommend checkin' out appleschan's fics. They're really interesting AU's for Bleach :D)**_

* * *

><p>The gods watch as the mortals mature and progress steadily to greatness. The nudge the gods had given them has been overwhelmingly successful, and for the first time in what seems like centuries, hope and a sense of community can be seen. The souls are working together, creating wonder out of the simplest of things. They are unified; a family.<p>

Sereitei City. It becomes the center of an extremely vibrant society of people, led by the strongest warriors that have vowed to protect Soul Society and its inhabitants. Yes, they are questionable people from all corners of the place, but they are their sole guardians, and no one doubts their strength and resolve to protect. They are the ones who fought the bone-masked creatures that preyed on the weak, that devoured unsuspecting souls. They are the ones who risked their lives to protect their fellow mankind even though they didn't know many of them from a bar of soap. But still, they chose to take up arms and protect, whether it was out of duty, bloodlust or for glory. Soul Society as a whole had now evolved into something new – something unified and so strikingly different from what it had been before. The construction of Sereitei is a feat in itself, and it exceeds all others cities before it in both size and magnificence. It marks the dawn of a new era; the era of the Shinigami.

* * *

><p>Zabimaru reflects on the people's creations, the mortals' construction of their Sereitei City, the center of their vibrant society. Being the deity of desperation and destruction, he wonders how they can find so much to create out of so little. To him, it seems pointless and redundant.<p>

_Why create, when destruction is inevitable?_ he reasons.

After all, if he feels like it he can pulverize their prized city on a whim and reduce them all to rubble before they even know what's hit them. It will only take a particularly destructive earthquake to wipe the city out. Humans are so vulnerable – he smirks dryly – so pathetically weak that they don't stand a chance against any perceivable threat. Yet, surprisingly, they do. He spectates as they ward off attacks from Shiro's creations (yet another laughable excuse of a challenge from the lesser god, he thinks wryly) and they _win._ Sure, they struggle, but as with any honest battle there must be a challenge to overcome, limitations to exceed. And Zabimaru is surprised when he finds that he is actually rooting for the mortals, willing them to win and pulverize and absolutely _destroy_ the enemy that dares to threaten them.

He realises the foes, the _Hollow_ as Shiro calls them, are not so weak as he first thought them to be. Yes, they are weak to _his_ standards – he is a _god_ after all – but he finds that they are a suitable opponent for the mortals.

Zangetsu and Shirayuki think that their little game has gone unnoticed by the others, but Zabimaru is not as ignorant as they believe him to be. He catches on to their interference, their game of _fate_. And if they are allowed to play it, then so is he. He will watch and wait in the shadows though, and see how things play out. Toying with mortals is difficult, and he wishes to observe before he decides to do anything particularly… destructive. His gifts, after all, are not ones to take lightly. And he doesn't want to undo all of Getsu's and Yuki's hard work, now does he? So, for now, he steps back and observes from the dark.

* * *

><p>The mighty captains of legend had once protected Soul Society and lead them to greatness, instilling a society filled with order and peace amongst its people. But it was not to last.<p>

You see, Aizen was one of them, and he had them fooled from the very beginning. He gained their trust, wormed himself and his spies into the Gotei 13's ranks and watched as it slowly crumbled from the inside out. Even the mighty Genryusai Yamamoto, the Soul Society's most renowned leaders, overlooked slight inner turmoils, blaming them on petty spats between soldiers or the occasional differing opinions of the higher-ranking officers.

Aizen knows of the celestial beings that lent them power through their Zanpakuto, knew that this power is only a fraction of the god's true might. And he wants to get their attention. And if he has to destroy half the world to get it, then he'll do just that. He wants power. He wants knowledge. He wants a challenge to accept, a puzzle to solve, and a means of evolution. He knows his human body can only do so much, that there are limitations even he can't overstep. His solution to this is to evolve beyond the realm of mortals and ascend to the heavens to become a celestial being himself. Only then can he truly control those below him, literally, and perhaps he can control the heavens as well. No, he _will_ control the heavens, the earth, and everything between the two. There is no room for doubt. Sometimes, you have to raise Hell to conquer the Heavens. And he will gain what he so desires.

* * *

><p>Zabimaru gazes down onto what is left of the once great city and he can't help but feel a little disappointed. He, the god of destruction, had not even had the chance to throw in a little turmoil for the mortals. A little drama, if you so like.<p>

But alas, the mortals have managed to bring turmoil to themselves without any input from a divine entity, though, Zabimaru notes, the mortal to cause this destruction is one touched by Zangetsu and tainted by another… he can't quite place his finger on it. He wonders if Shirayuki will be impressed with his careless selection of a vessel that has brought an end to their game.

Zabimaru doesn't want it to end yet; it's only just started after all. The world below is again in turmoil, which is his domain of expertise. And what better to entertain himself then adding some drama to the mix?

Yes, he thinks it is about time he took part in this game of cat and mouse.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN_**

**_Please leave a review on your way out :)_**


	9. Chapter 9 - Puzzle

_**A/N**_

_**Sorry for the delayed update. School's been hectic. Well without further adue, I give you chapter 9. Don't forget to drop me a review when you're done :)**_

* * *

><p>His eyes flutter open to unfamiliar surroundings. Within seconds, he is on his feet before he can assess his situation, arms hovering at his side with wiry tension. His vision swims, and before long he is back where he started: on the ground, his body <em>aching.<em>

Blinking back the throbbing in his temple that impairs his vision, he tries to put his foggy mind back in order, with unexpected difficulty. He remembers returning home empty-handed, feeling like a complete _failure_ – he'd failed them again, his sisters.

His sisters. Dad.

With a start he sits bolt upright, ignoring the insistent aches coursing throughout his body, and feels the bubble of panic threatening to consume him. Not his sisters, they couldn't have taken them; he vowed to protect them with his life. He –

A whisper of cloth attracts his attention, warding against his rising panic for the moment. A poised figure stands in the doorway, small frame seemingly filling the space with her demeanor.

"You're awake," she states factually, her voice clipped and sharp as a dagger's edge, dangerously wary. He decides this girl – this _woman_ – is a very frightening figure indeed. Was she the one to bring him here? If so, is she the one behind the attack of his family?

In a blind rage, senses muffled by anger, he rushes at the raven-haired figure, bunching her yukata in his shaking hands, trying to form a coherent sentence.

"_Where are they?"_ He eventually spits. "Where have you_ taken _them_?_"

She does not reply, instead staring stoically up at her attacker, violet eyes keen and analysing.

"Who?" she asks simply, tilting her head fractionally to the side in question. This only adds to his ire. He had to get them back. He had to –

His hands are ripped violently from her gown from another figure, and he is pushed back, his shoulders colliding harshly with the jagged wall behind him.

Stunned, he can't help but glare at the new figure. They are heavy-set, arms sinewy yet toned, sharp tattoos protruding dangerously from under a navy kosode and peaking from below a white bandana, complimenting the harsh angles of his cheekbones. The figure is topped with a spiky head of red hair, tied carelessly to the top of his head.

Ichigo is so utterly shocked by the figure's appearance that he can only process one coherent thought, of which he voices with a choked laugh.

"Pineapple…"

Irked, the man approaches and deals Ichigo with several blows, surely scattering his already battered body with more bruises. The teen slides down the wall, hunched and head hanging limply to his chest, unconscious.

The man holds up his bloodied fist, surprised that his victim went down so easily but not complaining about the victory.

"Ne, Rukia –" He is cut off by a mouthful of said woman's foot, and a few sharp jabs to the gut for good measure.

"Renji! You baka! I just _healed_ him, and you go and beat him up again? Fool."

Renji smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head to ward off the oncoming throb of a headache. He glances down at the raven-haired woman, noticing how her cheeks puff out in ire, fists clenched, prepared for more dealings of pain, and a dangerous glint sparkling in her unearthly eyes.

"He attacked you," Renji argues, jaw set stubbornly. He will not watch from the back as his friend is attacked. He did that once, and he vows it will never happen again. He will never see her blood spilled, promises with all his being that _she will not get hurt._

She must see the determined shine in his eyes, the hidden pain and shadows of past traumas quickly covered – not quick enough, obviously – and her expression softens fractionally. He was protecting her; she understands that. But she can fight her own battles, and she had the situation completely under control, she even thinks that she understands their… _guest_ a little more now. Something was taken from him, something dear… perhaps the other people who were dragged forcibly away from where she found him, dangerously close to death? Were they his friends? His family?

Renji clicks his fingers in front of her face, successfully grabbing her attention from her sullen musings. Annoyed that she spaced out, which dropped her guard – _never_ drop your guard, her brother had always said – she turns swiftly with a muttered "Take care of him" and exits the room as quietly and gracefully as the wind on a moonlit night.

Renji, left alone with the stranger Rukia had taken in, he stares after her retreating figure, wondering if he is cursed to be mesmerised by her beauty, and her to be ignorant of it and his heart for eternity.

Grimly, he sets his mind to other things, and reaches for the slumped figure against the wall to place him back on the worn futon stretched out limply on the dust-ridden floor.

He doesn't know why Rukia saved _this_ one – she'd easily ignored others before – but he accepts her instinct. She chose him for a reason, and hell, he better be worth it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Review :)<strong>_


End file.
